


We are not ourselves our enemies

by mayachain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath, Canonical Character Death, Drabble Sequence, Dumbledore's Army, Gen, POV Second Person, post Last Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 23:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayachain/pseuds/mayachain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Hogwarts, the D.A. needs to form one last line of defense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We are not ourselves our enemies

**Gregory**

The Aurors have just finished talking to and then arresting Lord and Lady Malfoy. Three of them are now looking toward the rubble of stairs that Narcissa told you and Draco to stay put on.

For a moment you imagine yourself running. Even without a broom you can be faster than people think. There's still enough confusion in the remains of the Great Hall that you might evade the Aurors just long enough to make it. 

Somebody killed Father. Mother will likely be arrested, too. Worse, you doubt you can bring yourself to leave Draco behind like you did Vincent.

 

**Draco**

When the three wizards purposefully stride toward you, you know there is nowhere for you to go but Azkaban. Maybe you even deserve it. You close your eyes, resigned to your fate, and only open them at Gregory’s sound of surprise. 

Longbottom has risen from his place at the fallen Creevy’s feet and blocked the Aurors’ path. They look distinctively perturbed, not to say beyond incredulous.

He doesn't utter a curse or a hex or even a spell. Longbottom doesn’t even really raise his wand. He simply stands between you and Gregory and the Aurors and refuses to move aside.

 

**Seamus**

The D.A. members gathered around Colin’s body look at the display in confusion. Nevertheless, they fall in line when you go to stand beside Neville. You aren't rightly sure what possessed your friend but willing to follow where Neville leads.

The way the youngest Auror eyes the two Slytherins doesn't sit right with you.

The man who has to be the senior Auror speaks, annoyed, “Look, boys, we have to question them!”

“No,” Neville says. “Not here, not now, and you’re certainly not dragging them off somewhere where somebody might get it in his head to have at them alone.”

 

**Dean**

“We have reports that they and several others used the Cruciatus Curse on other students throughout the year!” the Auror you recognize as the uncle of one of the fourth-years announces. You feel a bout of rage course through you - _that's_ was what's been going on here while you've been on the run? – but your angry words get caught in your throat when you hear Neville’s snort.

“I know what they did and did not do,” he says. “We all do. We were _there_.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see Michael and Luna nod.

 

**Hannah**

It's not an excuse for what a good third of the Slytherin students did, indeed, do. You doubt Neville means it as one. None of your fellow D.A. members seem to take it as such. 

It's a warning, clear and simple. Dumbledore’s Army will not let anyone be accused and convicted in one go, sentenced by nothing more than hastily drawn conclusions. Not even Goyle and Malfoy. Certainly not by a group of Aurors that arrived a good two hours _after_ the battle. 

You have a few suggestions in mind if they need to do _something _, now, to feel useful.__

__

__**Narcissa** _ _

__You discreetly watch the Aurors guarding you watch their colleagues. The latter, thankfully, seem at a loss how to proceed. They _could_ draw their wands and scatter the Longbottom boy’s wall of students. That, however, would hardly be a smart course of action under normal circumstances and certainly not today._ _

__These children have fought a fight that should have been the Aurors’, done all the things the Aurors should have done. You dare not predict your own future, but your suspect the Wizengamot would look the other way if these particular Gryffindors prove themselves to feel the slightest bit trigger-happy._ _

__

__**Septimus** _ _

You stretch your neck to catch a glimpse of your two would-be arrestees, Slytherins who have not moved since the commotion began. The Goyle offspring is staring at his classmates’ backs in plain astonishment. Malfoy’s lips are forming the words _But why...?_ , yet he makes no effort to voice them. 

__“What are we gonna do, Bingleby,” young Marterton hisses. You wish you’d waited for Shacklebolt, wish there was a way, any possible way, for you to hand this over to Tonks – Tonks, who always knew how to roll with the unexpected. Tonks, whom you believed on maternity leave and safe._ _

__

__**Astoria** _ _

__You shrink behind Daphne, certain that something is about to explode, when Potter wanders over. He's clearly as perplexed as Greg as to why Longbottom is defending Greg and Draco. It doesn’t stop him from telling the Aurors to “Go round up some real Death Eaters! Leave them alone.”_ _

__Granger, too, seems taken aback by the stand-off, but she readily launches into a tirade about the “questionable legality of seizing enrolled students without Headmistress McGonnagal’s consent.” Behind her, Weasley's clearly spoiling for a fight even though he looks as grey as Greg did when he confessed what happened to Vincent._ _

__

__**Lucius** _ _

__You cannot comprehend what is happening. The world is no longer turned the right side up. The Dark Lord is dead and you are alive, but you do not know for how long the latter will remain the case. You cannot understand how a group of Gryffindors is accomplishing what you and even your lovely Narcissa failed to do – protect your son. You do not know what you have done to deserve this kindness you would never have offered – never offered – their families in return. You want to hide your face underneath Narcissa's robes and never face the world again._ _

__

__**Augusta** _ _

__You loosen your grip around your wand as young Bingleby and his men retreat. Their expressions vary between subdued and disgruntled. You are gratified to see each of them blanch as they meet your gaze._ _

__Alastor would not have suffered such fools among his ranks. Frank, on the other hand, would have been so proud of his son. The victory of this battle belongs to him, to his generation._ _

__It's not over. Someone will eventually have to question young Goyle and Malfoy and probably the rest of the Slytherins._ _

__However. Like Neville said. Not like that, and not yet._ _


End file.
